


Blasphemous

by the_dangerous_ginger



Series: Destiel Smut Drabbles and Ficlets [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 3 random word challenge, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Warrior Castiel, god dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 09:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dangerous_ginger/pseuds/the_dangerous_ginger
Summary: He appreciated his lands, quiet and secluded from the rest, and his people, so generous and hard-working. Their gifts, although unnecessary, still pleased him. They left foods from their harvest, trinkets, and jewels, things of semblance to them. He treasured each, and, in return, granted them peace and prosperity. He shielded them from the atrocities of war and famine, and loved them as his own.There was one thing, though, he appreciated more than all combined.Prostátis Tígri.His Tiger.His Protector.





	Blasphemous

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the 3 Random Words Challenge (Words: Brass, Sentry, Tiger)  
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~K  
> Beta: Rieraclaelin

Liquid gold sunlight poured into the Grand Hall, reflecting the day’s beginning across smooth floors.

His decision to build his temple facing the East was unusual to the others, but he didn’t feel regret within it. At the start of every day, the sun broke the horizon, flooding his halls with its beauty; something he appreciated, lamented and lavished in, but not the only thing.

He appreciated his lands, quiet and secluded from the rest, and his people, so generous and hard-working. Their gifts, although unnecessary, still pleased him. They left foods from their harvest, trinkets, and jewels, things of semblance to them. He treasured each, and, in return, granted them peace and prosperity. He shielded them from the atrocities of war and famine, and loved them as his own.

There was one thing, though, he appreciated more than all combined.

 _Prostátis Tígri_.

His Tiger.

His Protector.

Known as Prostátis Tígri to the people, to his army, but he knew him by his true, gifted name.

Castiel.

Such a beautifully strange name, fitting for such a beautifully strange man.

Castiel was most always found by his side, ever vigilant, when not training himself or his men. The army was merely precaution, but Castiel never swayed from training them to be the very best, an image of himself reflected in his men.

He stood now, at the entrance of the Grand Hall, swathed in golden light. The dark, sprawling ink covering his back and shoulder stood stark against his tan skin, even more so in the light of day.

He knew what Castiel was looking for, and he also knew he wouldn’t find it. Every morning, Castiel scanned the immediate area for threats and, every morning, he found none, barring the rogue bird or goat.

Satisfied with the area's safety, he turned and strode towards him. The simple grace of his lope brought warmth to his heart. Castiel did nothing without purpose, not even walking.

“The area is secure.” The gravel of his voice boomed through the expanse of the Hall.

“Seems like it always is.” He quipped back lightly.

Castiel grunted in response and rolled his eyes. He knew that Castiel took his safety very seriously, but he still couldn't help tease him a bit.

It was one of his favorite pastimes.

One of them.

He reached for Castiel when he drew near, running a light finger across one of the many brass adornments he wore, feathering the bare skin beneath. Castiel told his men they were war medals, and some of them were, but the others… they were more personal.

Each draped across him from shoulder to hip, and each were placed in a very specific order. The ones that hung  on the outside were, indeed, war decorations; while, the ones closest to his heart were gifts.

From himself.

They were jeweled in many places, lined with glittering gems, sapphires, and emeralds.

Castiel had been bashful when he’d given him the first. He’d considered it almost blasphemous for a God to gift his protector such beautiful things.

He’d reminded him that they’d already done things that were much, much more blasphemous, and Castiel had accepted it a bit easier after.

Even then, as his fingers brushed the small mole above his nipple, Castiel, warrior of a God, blushed deeply.

“Dean, my men will be delivering yesterday’s offerings very soon. I need my composure for then.”

Dean.

His human name.

He savored the sound of it rolling off Castiel’s tongue. He liked his human name, much more so than his other, but he liked it even more when it came from his lover’s mouth.

“What if I sent them away today, dispersed the gifts amongst your men, and kept you in our bed all day?”

A full body shudder rolled off Castiel at the words.

“The men would not take them, merely send them back to you. They are loyal to a fault, you know.”

“Much like someone else I know.”

His fingers found Castiel’s cheekbone, still slightly discolored from a recent incident during training. Castiel leaned into the touch, and pressed kisses into his fingertips.

“As wonderful as your proposal is, they’re already here.”

“Later, then?”

A small smirk was the only answer he received before Castiel was striding away from him to offer a hand to the men.

 

* * *

 

He was feeling unexpectedly generous that evening.

Not that he wasn’t typically generous, he just felt that the day’s offerings would be better appreciated elsewhere.

“Send the meats to the army, let them eat well. The gold and jewels, to the church. The rest, disperse as you see fit.”

One of the younger men approached him meekly, and he could feel Castiel’s eyes snap to attention of them both. He remained a few feet away but did not take his eyes off of the young man.

“T-There was also this.” He stammered, holding out a small parcel. He could tell the boy hadn’t been with them long, still fresh and green and timid.

He took it and thanked the boy softly, trying to sound as reassuring and gentle as possible. He had no wish to hurt people, never did, but he supposed being in the presence of a God would be intimidating.

It made his heart hurt a little to see them fear him, even though he knew it was for the best. He just wanted them to see him as something less… terrifying.

“Thank you, Samandriel. Please help the others deliver to the church now.” Castiel ordered, his eyes a little softer then.

Samandriel nodded and hurried away, and he examined the parcel in his hands.

It was made of thick paper and had a bit of weight to it and was tied with a piece of brown yarn. He pulled the delicate bow holding it together apart and pushed the page open.

Nestled inside was something blue, nearly the size of Dean’s palm, and smooth like a stone.

He held it up to the light and examined it curiously.

“I believe that is lapis lazuli that’s been smoothed down to a pendant.” Castiel commented beside him.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Someone went through a lot of trouble, or got very lucky, to get that here. It is a rare stone to be found in our part of the world. A great love and devotion was sent with it, no doubt.”

He clasped the pendant tightly in his hand and delved further into parcel, finding letters as well.

A child’s messy handwriting covered it and it made him smile.

 **_“Thank you for saving Mommy when she was in trouble!”_ ** It said. Below the words, a drawing of a field and house on fire, with a family standing outside of it. Behind the home was a cloud with two green wax dots. The next page showed the same field and house, but restored with crops growing from the previously burnt ground, and another cloud.

This one had a name in the bottom corner.

 _Elise_.

“I remember this family. Last summer, when the storms were so angry, lightning struck a tree in one of the people’s fields. I could feel their prayers for help, and I aided them. I stopped the fires and pulled the mother from the house. I sent them food and made sure their crops flourished after.”

“Why didn’t I know of this?” Castiel asked him softly, concerned but not angry.

“You needed rest.”

Castiel looked away, as if he was ashamed of the fact, but he brought him back to face him with gentle fingers.

“They needed help, so I did.”

“We are so lucky to have you, Dean. We would have died off so long ago without you.”

He absorbed the words quietly, and felt Castiel’s sincerity. He knew it was true, but he did it because he had the power to, and it was right. The people shouldn’t have to suffer for him.

“Let’s go to bed.”

“Isn’t still a bit early?”

He didn’t answer, instead took Castiel by the hand and led them to their bed.

Their bed had also been something Castiel was first bashful about. The night they’d first lain together, he was gentleman enough to try to sleep on the floor. He didn’t stay there for long, of course, but it was several weeks later before he stopped trying, night after night.

Now they fell together into it, wrapped tightly in one another.

Before Castiel came to him, he would lavish men and women as soon as they touched the sheets, then send them on their way with tales to tell.

He was a different creature then.

Now he lay facing his lover, taking his time to trace the scars that he wore, like the one under his eye. When he was a boy, a wolf attacked his horse in the night. Upon hearing its wails, Castiel rushed to save it, armed with a few sharp sticks and a handful of rocks.

He walked away with a scar, a living horse, and a wolf pelt that now lay in a chest in the corner of the room.

That was so long ago, enough that the scar had faded into nothing more than a silver line, stretching from his eyebrow to the bridge of his nose.

Then there were the others, most darker and angrier, that lined his chest and back, earned from battle with more evil things than wolves.

Even though he’d taken Castiel in and made him his _Prostátis,_ stopped him from aging, and made him stronger, the man still bled. He could still procure scars from his wounds, which he rarely ever let him heal, instead insisting that his power be used elsewhere.

Each scar held a story within it, and he knew them all.

He recalled them each to himself while fiddling with the cool brass that still lay across him, and Castiel laid there and let him.

This was the epitome of their relationship.

The quiet moments, the closeness, and the ability to _breathe_. It brought him so much joy that he could nearly weep over it. With Castiel, he didn’t have to be profound and godly, he could be as close to normal and human as he could get. No judgement to be found, just… love.

He could be _Dean_.

He knew the love of his people and cherished it, but Castiel’s was something otherworldly.

It was richer and all powerful.

He sat them both up and drew Castiel closer to him, reaching for the clasps of his brass links, and, one by one, he released them.

With the jingle of each being released, Castiel’s eyes grew darker, hungrier, and when the final fell from its place, they melted into each other.

One would think that making love with a God would mean surrendering to their might, but not with the two of them. Instead, he surrendered to Castiel’s touch, his kiss, warm and soft against his lips.

Blasphemous.

Never would he have thought that someone could get this close to him, to have his trust so completely, to let go; yet, here he was liquefying under Castiel’s prowess.

Castiel treated him like precious glass, skirting light hands down his face and sides. It drove him wild and Castiel knew it.

It was going to be one of _those_ nights.

So, instead of trying to hurry things along and cut straight to the action, he relaxed further into the touch and let himself really enjoy their time together. He relished the warmth of hands and lips on him, everywhere, teasing and coaxing.

Sure, he could fix it where they could dive straight in, and had before, but there was something so deliciously wondrous about opening to Castiel’s fingers. Those fingers knew all the perfect places to make him writhe and they always did just that.

He let out a soft sound, almost akin to a cry, when Castiel slid his oiled cock into him, only to be immediately soothed.

Castiel knew how to take his time with him, how to draw out every sigh and moan, exactly as if he was conducting a war assault. Precise, measured, and careful, and always purposeful. He did nothing halfway, and for sure didn’t when it came to this.

He set the pace, slow and easy, a smooth ascension to ecstasy.

It was in these times Castiel looked like a true God, more so than he ever could, powerful and electrifying. The only other time was in battle, when he let himself be consumed by rage and ferocity. His eyes, normally so ethereally bright, turned dark and the ink that covered him came alive with every roll of his hips.

He could feel a storm forming above them, an unintentional reaction, an unholy personification of their lust and love. When the drops fell, he felt them all.

When they were both finished and spent, they lay again facing each other, letting the night air cool the sweat gathered on them.

At some point, they found each other again and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Someone was in the room, he could feel it, and he knew Castiel could, too.

He felt Castiel’s hand slide under their pillows and grab the blade hidden there. Within an instant, the both of them were up and fighting.

There were four of them, two for each side, and disposing of the first was entirely too easy.

The pained shout that emanated from Castiel drew his attention away for a second too long, and he felt the tip of a blade slice his cheek. It didn’t hurt, but he did not take it lightly. With the touch of his hand wrapped around his assailant’s throat, they were no more than a plume of ash and dust.

Castiel had managed to kill one and injure the last, leaving them kneeling and maimed on the floor of their room.

He ripped the hood from their head and pressed the deadly sharp edge of his blade against the man’s throat.

“Lucius. You stupid fool.”

The man, Lucius, snickered from where he kneeled.

“Oh, yes. What a fool I am, _Tígri._ Go on, get it over with. We all know the price of treason.”

A dark laugh rose from Castiel, “You think I’m just going to kill you straight away? No, you disgusting leech, I have plans for you. It’s time I make a point to my men.”

“ _Your men_!” Lucius spat, “What will your men think when I tell them what you do at night? When you’re supposed to be protecting their God. Instead, you spend your time beneath him!”

Castiel grabbed the man by a fistful of hair and yanked his head back.

“Tell them. Tell them that while they sleep and dream of women and fortune, _t_ _hat I fuck their God_. That I make him scream for me in ways they could never imagine.” He roared, “I’ll make an example of you, lash you until you beg for mercy, then bleed you out and feed you to the dogs. Your death, your blood, and agony, will show the world the fate they will share if anyone dares to harm him.”

In that moment, Castiel stood angry and wounded, naked and unabashedly powerful. Furiosity billowed from his very core and his once soldier trembled under him.

He summoned Balthazar, one of Castiel’s most trusted, silently and stood stone still when the man came charging in, half dressed and sword drawn.

He kneeled to him immediately, “You summoned.”

“Take him and chain him at the foot of the temple. Strip him of his clothes and leave him in the rain. He will await his punishment there.” He commanded quietly.

The man took Lucius, who screamed atrocities at them, without question and did as asked.

He rushed to Castiel’s side as soon as they were alone. The wound cut across his abdomen and bled heavily enough to worry him.

“Leave it.” Castiel gasped, looking paler by the second.

“No.”

He led Castiel back to their bed and made him lay. Gently, he pressed a hand on the wound, cooing when Castiel grunted in pain. Beneath the crimson stickiness, he felt the flesh warm, nearly to a fever pitch.

With the heat, it mended and healed, and within seconds blood was all that left behind.

He could feel Castiel's breathing and heartbeat slow to its normal rhythm again, and, slowly, he sat up.

“Dean… thank you.”

He gathered him up in his arms and held him tightly. That's where they remained until dawn broke and another day began.

With that day, Castiel donned his war cuirass, reserved for rare occasions, and doled out his punishment as promised.

He sat with Samandriel as his sentry and waited, feeling the anger and wrath snake it's way up the temple steps.

When the deed was done and Lucius was gone, Castiel returned and sent Samandriel away.

He helped him out of his cuirass and gently wiped the blood from Castiel’s face and hands.

Then, he gathered Castiel in his lap and they stayed.

No offerings came, for the men knew it was to be a day of silence, and he was grateful. Together they watched the sky fade until dark, then they retired for the evening.

They kept each other safe and warm throughout the night, and when dawn broke again and sunlight poured into their Hall, he clasped the brass chains back together again.

He also added another gift, this time, not a chain. Instead a leather cord with a shining blue pendant hanging from it.

Castiel wore it proudly.

**Author's Note:**

> Like it? Let me know!
> 
> ~K


End file.
